


Rocks from Distant Moons

by nicalyse



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Gen, Unconventional Families, having a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2015-10-16
Packaged: 2018-04-26 13:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5007421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicalyse/pseuds/nicalyse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He needs to focus on setting up house in America and figuring out how he and Briana are going to raise their baby together without being properly together.</p>
<p>He’s scared shitless.</p>
<p>He's also fucking determined to make it work.</p>
<p>Or, Louis builds a family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rocks from Distant Moons

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the most darling **gentleantics** for her birthday. Tori is fantastic and deserves all the nice things. ♥♥♥
> 
> Thank you to **sunsetmog** for the Britpick and the read through. ♥

Louis's quiet when he lets himself into the flat. Outside, the sky is just beginning to lighten with the impending sunrise, but everything here is still and hushed in a way that he doesn't want to disturb. He sets down his bag and toes off his shoes, heading down the hall to let Briana know he's arrived before he falls onto the sofa to sleep for as long as he can manage.

There's a light burning in the bathroom, the door standing open. He stops short when he glances in. Briana is there on the floor, curled on the bathmat like one of the pill bugs living under the potted geraniums outside her building she’s introduced him to. (Good name, pill bug. Much better than woodlouse. He’s keeping it). Her pajama bottoms are rucked up around her shins, her blonde hair a wild mess about her head.

"Briana," he says softly, kneeling down to brush the backs of his fingers over her arm cautiously. He's never woken her before; for all he knows, she'll come up swinging.

Instead, she blinks her eyes once before squinting up at him after he says her name the third time, a soft, vaguely hurt noise in the back of her throat. He reaches over to flick off the light to save her eyes. A night light shaped like a flower pops on next to the sink. "Come up off the floor, love," he murmurs, wrapping his hand around her bicep to help her upright.

"What time is it?" she asks, voice sleep-thick.

"No idea," he answers honestly, letting her brush him off when she's on her feet. He watches her reach for the cup next to the tap and run herself a glass of water. She drinks half of it in one. "Why are you in here?"

"Fell asleep after I puked, I guess." Louis leans against the doorframe and watches her finish her water and rub her eyes tiredly. "Morning sickness is a fucking lie."

He remembers his mum being pregnant with Daisy and Phoebe. She would get sick cooking dinner and have to dash off to the loo just as everything was nearly finished. Seems shit. "I'm sorry."

She tilts her head at him. "It is all your fault."

"Oi," he says mildly. "Half."

She huffs a laugh. "Yeah. Half."

She brushes past him to head down the hall, pausing just before her bedroom door. "Are you coming?"

He follows, climbing into bed with her, leaning his cheek on his hand and looking at her across the pillows. There's a light outside just seeping through the blinds, highlighting the faint circles under her eyes and the absolute rat's nest of her hair. She lets out a slow breath and opens her eyes, wriggling toward him. "Where did you come from?"

"Baltimore.”

"Good show?"

"Yeah, really good."

She blinks twice, so slowly he's sure she's falling asleep. Her eyes are closed when she whispers, "Can I have a hug?"

He moves closer wordlessly, pulling her in so her head is tucked beneath his chin, wrapping his arms tight around her. Her breathing goes even almost at once, warm through the front of his t-shirt. He strokes a hand over her hair and takes a deep breath of his own. It's mad, this, them. He's not sure he knows how to handle it.

He falls asleep before he can think too hard, jet lag and a long day and the adrenaline crash catching up all at once.

*

They're still getting to know each other, is the thing. Louis knows Briana's laugh, that she likes to hold hands when she's drunk, that she goes all high-pitched and breathless when she comes. But he has no idea how she takes her coffee, if she even drinks coffee. He doesn't know if she prefers cats or dogs, what foods make her gag, the story of her first kiss.

It's not ideal, no, but he's determined to make this work.

Sitting beside her at the doctor's, hearing his baby's heartbeat for the first time - _his baby_ \- reminds him of exactly why.

Briana gasps aloud, catching his hand in hers and squeezing hard. She's got her other hand over her mouth, her eyes shining bright with unshed tears when she looks at him.

"Yeah," he breathes, not feeling entirely dry-eyed himself. "Yeah, I know."

*

"All right, Bri?" he answers his mobile.

"I'm good, yeah. So, I've been getting packages all week. Or, you have, I guess." She pauses for a beat, then goes on, entirely unself-conscious when she says, "I opened the one from Vans. I wanted to see the shoes you bought."

Louis grins to himself. "That's fine. You can open whatever." Everything that he's had sent to Briana's is for the baby; there's no sense posting it home just to drag it back halfway across the world.

"Oh, I already did," she says, dismissive. "But you bought baby Vans." Her voice goes up a bit at the end, but it’s not really a question.

"I did."

"Well, fuck you, because they made me cry."

It startles a laugh out of him. "Oh, love. Why would you cry?"

"I don't know!" she half-wails. "I mean, it's my stupid fucking hormones, and thanks for that, but they're so small? All the clothes are, and it's completely fucking terrifying, but a pair of tiny black tennis shoes are what really, like, drove it home?” Her voice is still going up at the ends of her sentences, like she doesn’t quite understand her own reactions. “I'm going to have a baby small enough to wear those in less than six months, and it's a lot."

He doesn't think it's a good time to mention that the shoes he ordered are really meant for a six month old. "Are you really all right?" he asks, voice soft.

She sniffles. "What are you going to do if I say I'm not?"

"I don't know," he answers honestly. "Whatever I can to make it better, I reckon."

She huffs a watery laugh. "Well. I'm fine. Should I be expecting any more deliveries?"

"Maybe." Definitely.

"Are you ordering anything useful, or is it all tiny shoes and soccer jerseys?"

He certainly isn't going to apologize for the football kit. "We've got time to get the useful stuff. It's just a bit of fun."

"I bought a hoodie for her," Briana says after a moment. "It's gray and fleecy, and it's got little bunny ears on the hood."

"Sounds cute."

"It's really cute. And I got a couple of stuffed animals, a monkey and an elephant, made out of bamboo fibers."

Louis settles in to listen, Briana's sharp accent washing over him as she talks about soft toys. He likes how she refers to the baby as "her." She hadn't wanted to find out the sex, says that it doesn't matter and just creates weird expectations, but she nearly always says "her" when she talks about the baby. It makes Louis picture a tiny baby girl, blue-eyed and dark-haired, a little girl who'll call him Daddy and fall asleep in his arms.

Maybe someday he'll tell Briana that he'd misted up a bit when he picked up the tiny Vans in the shop before asking to have them delivered.

*

After the last tour date, Louis spends a week in Doncaster with his family before going to settle in Los Angeles with Briana for the foreseeable future. There'll still be a bit of promo for the new album and some stuff with X Factor before the end of the year. Eventually there'll be things for the label, but all of that is ages away. Now, he needs to focus on setting up house in America and figuring out how he and Briana are going to raise their baby together without being _together_.

He’s scared shitless.

He's also fucking determined to make it work.

It's late when he finally gets to Briana's, airplane-revolting and grimy and that sort of weirdly exhausted that comes from traveling even though he's been sitting for hours on end. He'd like to fall into a bed and be dead to the world for the next two days, but instead he'll be sleeping on Briana's sofa and overseeing the removal men at the new house.

He'd texted to let her know he was on his way, and she's watching telly when he lets himself in, curled up into the corner of the sofa with a soft-looking lavender blanket tugged up over her lap. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she isn't wearing any makeup. "Hey," she greets, picking up the remote and turning down the volume on the telly.

"Hey."

"You look tired," she says, watching him drop his bags and toe off his trainers.

"Cheers."

"I don't mean--" She cuts herself off. "Your mom sent a care package for you. You could have tea."

"Yeah, all right."

Louis freezes in place when Briana pushes the blanket off her lap and stands to lead him into the kitchen; in the weeks since he saw her last, her belly has gotten noticeably bigger, finally properly showing, her t-shirt stretched snug over it. "You're pregnant," he blurts nonsensically.

She stops in the doorway, turning to look at him like he's stupid. "Yes."

"No, I mean, you _look_ pregnant now." She's still looking at him like he's a complete idiot. He's beginning to feel like he is. "You didn't look pregnant before, not until you pulled up your shirt at the doctor’s. But now, you--" He takes an abortive step toward her, unsure. "You're pregnant."

She smiles at him, softly, and he's struck by how different she looks now that he's paying attention. Her belly, yes, but the roots of her hair are growing in darker than the ends, and the bare skin of her face looks healthy and soft, that nonsense about a pregnancy glow apparently not entirely nonsense after all.

"I am," she agrees. "Come on, make your tea so I don't fuck it up."

They sit on the sofa together, sipping tea (Yorkshire for Louis, peppermint for Briana) and watching _Archer_ in companionable silence until Louis yawns so hugely that his jaw nearly creaks.

Briana flicks off the telly, dropping the remote on the coffee table and getting up off the sofa. "Let's go to bed."

"I thought I'd just kip out here. Sleep on the sofa," he clarifies when she looks confused, thinking it's his choice of phrase.

"Don't be stupid. It's not like we haven't shared a bed before. We'll be in the house in a few days anyhow." The house they're going to share so they can raise their baby together, with bedrooms for each of them and a big garden and gates to keep the paps away.

"If you're sure."

"It's fine, Louis."

She's already in bed when he finishes cleaning his teeth, curled up on her side beneath the duvet, facing the middle of the bed. After a moment's hesitation, he steps out of his tracksuit bottoms and climbs in beside her, flicking off the lamp on the bedside table.

Briana's eyes shine in the dark when she looks at him. "Louis."

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here," she whispers. "I really don't want to do this alone."

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, scooting closer to her, brushing the backs of his fingers over her cheek. "You won't have to. I promise."

"Yeah?"

He presses a soft, chaste kiss to her lips. "I promise," he repeats.

He means it.

*

The first night in the new house is weird.

It's not the new furniture or the boxes stacked against the walls in almost every room or the electronics that are still waiting to be hooked up and therefore feel like masses of useless plastic junk in the interim. It's not the stillness of the back garden or the hollow emptiness of the house itself now that the removal men and Briana's family have gone. And it's not Briana, who was lovely about everything all day, carrying only the smallest boxes and cheerfully directing everyone else as they worked, and is now soaking in a bath in her en suite.

Louis keeps thinking about Eleanor, and it's weird.

It's just that he'd imagined all of this - babies and building a house and growing up for real - with Eleanor so many times in the last few years that it's _weird_ to be doing it like this instead.

He spends an age in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his overworked muscles, and flops back on his bed once he's made it up with all new sheets, clean from the dryer and chucked there by Briana when the load had finished. He thumbs through his contacts in his mobile, looking for someone to talk to. Everyone back home is out of the question as it's the middle of the night. He thinks Niall is in Australia, but he's got no idea what time it is there. Harry's in LA, but Louis isn’t sure he can handle Harry's brand of pep talk.

In the end, he plugs his mobile in to charge and goes down to the kitchen for tea. Tea always helps.

He finds Briana there, perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, eating a bowl of cereal. "What have you got there?" he asks, filling the kettle and flicking it on.

"Crispix," she answers after she's swallowed her bite.

Louis sticks his hand in the box for a handful. "Boring," he declares after he's tasted it. Briana shrugs and takes another bite, unbothered, watching him wordlessly until his tea has finished brewing.

"Are you okay?" she finally asks, pushing her bowl away.

"I'm fine." She says nothing, and he sips his tea, scalding his tongue just a little. "It's just weird, yeah?"

"Yeah." She look past him, out the windows to the garden. "Do you think is a bad idea?"

"Nah. We'll figure it out."

*

"Louis."

"Mmph."

"Louis."

"Wha's't?"

"Can I sleep with you?"

Briana's voice sounds so small and sad that Louis' eyes open immediately. Her hair's a mess and her face looks blotchy in the light from the alarm clock on the bedside table. "Course," he says, voice sleep-rough, scooting back a tick when she slips beneath the duvet. "What's wrong?"

She rubs her cheek against the pillow, tugging the duvet up to her chin. "I'm really lonely," she whispers like it's a secret. "I'm so tired, and I'm so tired of being alone, and I don't know if I can do it, Louis, I really don't."

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, gathering her close as she begins to cry. Her stomach is big between them, but he hunches his shoulders to put his face close to hers. "You aren't alone. You won't be alone, I promise."

"You'll leave again."

"We'll hire a nanny to help you."

"Fuck, Louis. I'm supposed to be in love with the guy I have a baby with." She sobs once and breaks his heart.

He doesn't say anything, holding her close until she's cried herself out and falls asleep, stroking her hair and wiping the tears from her cheeks with the edge of the sheet.

*

Louis curses under his breath, scratching through the last few words he wrote and sticking the pen back behind his ear. It's half-three and he's tired, his brain fuzzy and mostly useless, but he can't sleep, not with this melody rolling around in his head. He puts his fingers back on the keys, playing through the melody again, humming half-words under his breath.

"That's nice."

Briana speaks softly enough from the doorway that Louis doesn't jump, but it's a near thing. "Shit, I forgot to close the door." He'd had this room soundproofed so he could work without disturbing the whole house, but it's useless if he can't remember to close the door. "I'm sorry I woke you up."

"You didn't. No, I-- Heartburn," she says, rolling her eyes. "I got up to make tea."

He looks at her, framed in the doorway with a steaming mug in hand, hair pulled over one shoulder and a pair of slippers on her feet. She's wearing a zip-up hoodie that she's pulled closed, stretched to its limits by the swell of her belly.

"Sorry," she says into the silence between them. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No," he says quickly, feeling stupid. "No, it's fine. Do you wanna..." He gestures sort of vaguely to the keyboard, scooting sideways a bit on the bench to make room for her to sit.

"Sure. If you're sure."

"Yeah. C'mere."

She perches beside him carefully, knees pressed together and her mug cradled between both hands. She's tentative when she asks, "You're writing a song?"

"Maybe? It's a thing I had stuck in my head." He plays through it again, fingers trembling slightly on the keys the way they always do when he plays something new for someone else the first time.

Briana hums when he's finished, sipping at her tea while he folds his hands in his lap to hide the way they shake. "I like it," she says, soft. "It's like a lullaby."

And that's-- "That's it," he says, turning to face her. "That's exactly it. You're brilliant."

She smiles, cheeks going pink. "Are there lyrics?"

"A few."

They sit up for another hour, Louis toying with lyrics for the verses and fiddling with what might be a chorus, Briana warm and soft and thoughtful at his side. With his brain finally quiet enough to allow him to consider sleep, Louis allows Briana to lead him back upstairs, following her into her bedroom without hesitation.

*

"I think we should decorate the nursery ourselves," Briana says one night over dinner. Louis roasted chicken and potatoes with his mum's guidance via email, and they're eating at the table together, another effort to get to know each other better before they're sharing responsibility for a human life. "Instead of hiring someone, I mean."

A designer helped them with the rest of the house, finding a middle ground between what they each wanted. "Did you have something in particular in mind?"

"Clowns," she says seriously, breaking into giggles a moment later when Louis blanches. "No. I don't know, I just want to do it myself. I think it's that nesting thing."

"That's fine. Whatever you want," Louis says easily, relieved that she doesn't really want clowns. It's not so much that they're creepy as it is that they're boring. "You can't paint though."

"No, I know." She pushes a potato around her plate. "Will you help me with it?"

He waits until she looks up and meets his eyes. "Of course." Under the table, he nudges her bare foot with his own. "It'll be fun."

It's more fun than he expects, flicking through paint chips and going to the shop to choose the furniture. Briana finds the mobile that becomes their inspiration, paper-style airplanes in black and white meant to help an infant's eyes focus. They choose duck egg blue for the walls, and Louis calls up one of his tattoo artist friends for a favor, a set of paper airplane paintings not unlike his tattoo but done on canvases that they can frame and hang around the room. They get cushions and bedding in a shade of orange Briana refers to as dreamsicle, and Louis puts up shelves for Briana to display the little cute things she's already picked out.

Louis really loves it, and he's proud of them for doing it together. It required more cooperation and compromise than conceiving their baby, at least.

He comes home from a meeting about his label and finds Briana sitting in the rocking chair Harry sent over when he heard they were decorating the nursery, rocking slowly with one hand resting atop the swell of her stomach, eyes closed.

"All right?" he asks, softly so as not to startle her.

She smiles, opening her eyes to look at him. "Yeah," she says, matching his quiet tone.

He steps into the room and lowers himself to sit on the rug just next to the crib, looking around. "We did all right, yeah?"

"Yeah. We did."

*

Briana pauses in his bedroom doorway, eyes widening at the sight of him in the midst of a mess. "What is all this?"

He grins up at her. "Stuff from fans. The good stuff," he clarifies, waving her in. "Mum went through it all and sent it over. It's all about the baby."

Briana lowers herself to the floor slowly beside him, crossing her legs up underneath her. She's not really a One Direction fan, something she'd admitted when they first met, so he thinks she doesn't fully get it, what their fans are like. They can be mad, yeah, and sometimes they make his life - and hers, by extension - harder, but they're also dedicated and supportive and really, really lovely.

"That's good," she says, picking up a pencil sketch of Louis cradling a little baby in his arms. It is well-done, a good likeness of his face, his hair a shaggy mess, his tattoos carefully detailed.

He looks up from the little book he's flipping through - a history of One Direction, written specifically for his kid, illustrated in pastel colors - and nudges a second box toward her. "There's stuff for you, too."

"For me," she repeats, disbelieving. He shrugs.

"You're part of this now. The good fans are really good," he adds, soft, watching her pull a handmade congratulations card from its envelope.

Fifteen minutes later, Briana sets down a letter and buries her face in her hands, sniffling loudly. Alarmed, Louis picks up the letter and begins skimming it quickly; his mum had said that she'd read through everything that she sent, but maybe she missed something, something terrible.

But it's very kind, a girl offering her congratulations, saying that she's sure they'll have a beautiful, healthy baby. She insists that Louis might seem flighty but will be a great dad - Louis begins to tear up himself, just a bit - and encourages Briana to remember that there are lots of people, everywhere, who love their baby and want nothing but the best for all of them, no matter the circumstances.

"That's," Briana starts, pausing to sniffle again. "It's really sweet," she finishes, using the cuff of her sleeve to wipe her tears away. "And I'm a hormonal mess."

Louis scoots over to wrap his arms around her, tugging her close. "Someone's knitted a tiny pair of mittens that's in that box, if you'd like to cry over them instead."

"Oh god," she groans, shoving her face against his arm. "Let me see 'em."

*

"Are you busy?" Briana asks, poking her head into his bedroom.

He doesn't point out that he's sprawled on top of his bed in nothing but a pair of worn joggers watching a repeat of _Bob's Burgers_. "Nope."

She shifts on her feet, tucking her hands into the pocket of the hoodie she's wearing. It came out of his closet, but he's pretty sure it was Harry's before it was his. "Do you want to go the grocery store with me? I want cereal."

"Have we run out?" They both eat a lot of cereal, so they always keep plenty in the cupboard.

"No. I just want something different."

"I can go get it for you," he offers, flicking off the telly and reaching for a hoodie when he gets off the bed.

She shakes her head, says, "I don't know what I want."

Twenty minutes later, they're standing in the middle of the cereal aisle at the nearest supermarket to their house. It's near enough to closing time that there are only a few other customers, all of the employees wandering about, pretending to tidy shelves that are already neat, biding time until they can go.

"Ugh, what do I want?" There's an uncharacteristic whining lilt to her voice.

There are at least a half-dozen different kinds of cereal in the cupboard at home, Briana's boring Cheerios and Special K and Louis' Lucky Charms and Coco Pops. He's got no idea what she wants. "Cinnamon Toast Crunch?" he offers, the first one he recognizes on the shelf even if it has a different name.

"No."

"Captain Crunch?"

"No."

_Attention shoppers,_ comes a voice over the PA. _We'll be closing in ten minutes. Please make your final selections._

Louis ignores it. "Apple Jacks?"

Briana makes a face.

Five minutes later, there's another announcement. Briana still hasn't made a choice, frustration evident on her face.

"What if we just get a bunch of different ones and pick at home?" Louis offers.

By the time they get back to the house there are grainy cell phone pictures of them loading no fewer than twenty-five boxes of cereal into the boot of Briana's car on Twitter. _I take cereal very seriously_ he tweets from the kitchen table.

Briana pours herself a bowl of Kix and sits beside him. "Thanks for going with me."

"Course," he says easily, stealing a few pieces of cereal from the top of her bowl. He wrinkles his nose when he chews. "Why do you eat such boring cereal?"

"Kix is not boring," she insists, talking with her mouth full. He's more endeared than revolted. "Kix is sweet and crunchy and delicious."

He reaches past her for the box, pulling out a handful of cereal to eat dry. "Yeah. I guess it's all right."

Mouth full of cereal, she gives him a wink instead of saying anything.

*

Louis is stuck in traffic on his way home, squinting into the sunset from behind a pair of aviators, when his phone buzzes in his lap with a text from Briana.

_SOS. When will you be home?_

_Soon stuck in traffic what's wrong?_

_I am a little bit stuck in the tub._

Louis squawks, fumbling to exit out of his texts to call her, fuck the laws against driving and talking. "What exactly do you mean you're stuck in the bath?" he asks when she answers.

"I went for a walk this morning and my back was sort of achy, so I thought I'd take a bath," Briana says wearily. "But I'm too fat to get out because my balance is all fucked up. Don't laugh!" she cries when he suppresses a snort.

"I'm sorry, babe. Are you all right?"

"My toes are all pruney," she says, rueful. "I'm fine though."

"I should be there soon. Are you going to be all right till then?"

"Yeah. I'll just be sitting here feeling fat and useless. But I'm fine."

He heads straight up to Briana's room when he gets home, rapping his knuckles on the door frame before he steps into her en suite. She looks for all the world like she's just relaxing in the bath, her hair in a messy topknot, what was once probably a pile of bubbles just a bit of deflated suds skimming the surface around the edges of the tub. "Hey," she greets, sheepish.

"Need a hand then?" he asks.

"Yes, please."

Her balance isn't as bad as she seems to think it is; he really just holds onto her forearms while she stands and makes sure she's steady coming over the edge of the bath. He hands her the towel from the counter when she's out, taking a step back while she wraps it around her body. "All right?"

"Yeah." She doesn't bother to dry off, keeping the towel wrapped around her chest as she steps out of the bathroom, trails of water still slipping down her calves. She stops at the foot of her bed and turns to face him. "Thank you," she manages before she bursts into giggles.

He crosses the space between them and leans in to kiss her forehead. "Anytime, love." He catches a drop of water sliding across her collarbone with his thumb. "Maybe no more baths when you're home alone."

"Oh god," she wails through her giggles. "Deal."

*

After the new year, things seem to slow down and speed up all at once. Each day that passes brings them closer to the terrifying inevitable, the real human life that they'll be responsible for forever, the tiny person whose life and needs will forever supersede theirs. But it's all slower, now that he's finished with promo and band things for the foreseeable future, and Briana is napping each afternoon, snappish and exhausted and somehow still really, really lovely.

He's reading through some things on his laptop in the kitchen when Briana comes in, banging around in the cupboards aimlessly before running herself a glass of water from the tap.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Louis asks, a bit cautious. The last time he asked, she bit his head off.

She whirls to face him, clutching the edge of the sink like it's helping her keep balanced. "Actually, you--" She cuts herself off abruptly, her expression shuttering. "No. No, I'm fine."

"Briana."

She slams her cup into the sink. "It's fine, Louis. I'm just...frustrated."

"You're sure I can't help?"

She laughs humorlessly. "You don't...I mean, you could fuck me, which would help, but it's probably a terrible idea, so. No. You can't help."

His eyes widen with the realization. "Oh, fuck. Briana, I--"

"Shut up," she orders, sharp. "Whatever you're going to say, shut up."

She sweeps out of the kitchen, or as near to it as she can get with her belly sticking out in front of her, leaving Louis feeling stupid and useless at the kitchen table.

Later that night - after two hours with Google and a trip to a shop he desperately hopes he wasn't papped leaving - he sets a box in the middle of her bed and retreats to his room.

And in the morning, she comes up behind him at the cooker where he's scrambling eggs for breakfast, leaning around to press a kiss to his cheekbone, belly pushing into his lower back. "You're sweet for trying," she tells him, picking up his mug and stealing a sip. "Can you keep this warm while I shower?"

"Yeah," he answers automatically. "Did it work then?" he shouts after her, watching the new sway of her hips as she walks out of the kitchen. "Are you less frustrated?"

She doesn't answer. Louis decides to let it go.

*

Between his sisters and his mum's job, Louis' spent nearly his whole life around brand new babies. But none of that, nothing could have prepared him from being in the room when his own daughter comes into the world.

He's crying when they lay her on Briana's chest, dark-haired and pink-faced, the ear-piercing cries from the moment of her birth already subsiding into discomfited little whimpers. "Oh my god," he breathes, squeezing Briana's hand gently, reaching up to brush his fingers over the furrowed line of his daughter's eyebrows. "Oh my god," he says again.

It's the only real thought in his head hours later still, when he's sitting in the uncomfortable chair in the corner of Briana's private room, his daughter cradled close in his arms. Briana is sleeping, her family and his having gone to give her time to rest, though Louis had insisted on staying behind. The baby is sleeping, too, swaddled tight, her weight terrifyingly slight in his arms, her little pink mouth pursed, eyelids fluttering with whatever dreams brand new babies dream.

Jesus fucking Christ, he's never, ever been so in love with anything or anyone as he is with her.

She's perfect, and there isn't anything that he won't do for her. He's going to be the absolute worst sucker for her, he already knows. _You own me,_ he thinks, ducking his head to brush his lips against her forehead.

"Hey."

Briana's voice is rough with labor and sleep. She's turned onto her side a little in the bed to face them and is smiling, fond. "Hey," he nearly whispers.

"You look good like that," she tells him.

He smiles stupidly. "I love her. I already love her so much."

"Yeah." Briana's smile looks just as stupid as his feels. She scoots a bit to the side in the bed. "Come here."

Louis hands her the baby before he toes off his trainers and climbs into bed beside her, sliding his arm behind her neck to pull both of them closer to him. The baby barely stirs with all the movement, sleeping peacefully in the space there between them.

"She needs a name," Briana says tiredly, sinking into the bed a bit.

They've discussed names but never decided on anything concrete; if he thought that having her actually here would make it feel more urgent, he was wrong. "We'll figure it out."

Briana hums, brushing her thumb softly over the baby's cheekbone before looking up to meet his eyes. "We really can't fuck this up, Louis."

"We won't," he promises, leaning over to press a lingering kiss to her forehead. "We'll figure it out."

They spend their first night as a family just like that, pressed close in the hospital bed, Louis' and Briana's breathing synced up, their fingers laced together where their hands rest on the baby's belly.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://accidentalambivalence.tumblr.com/)


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